


Well, This is Unexpected

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Houdini & Doyle (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 15:24:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7367137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Houdini is remarkably thick and doesn't see the truth when it's right in front of his face. Or, not in front of his face, that is.</p><p> </p><p>In other words: Harry Houdini is turning into a vampire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well, This is Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for up to all nine episodes thus far!
> 
> I do not own _Houdini and Doyle_. Thanks for reading!

"S-She _bit_ me!"

Hand splayed against the floor to steady himself, Houdini clapped the other against the wound on his neck, sticky and warm and wet with blood. Fingers explored the bleeding area and he hissed in pain, swallowing back the taste of bile in the back of his throat.

"Houdini!" Adelaide folded down next to him. "Let me see." Her fingers gently pried his away from his neck.

"She actually bit me!"

"Hush." Adelaide produced a handkerchief from somewhere, dabbing it gently against his neck.

"Ow."

"Sorry."

He was never going to work on another vampire case again! The last time he'd been buried alive! Now he'd been bitten by a crazy lady! How many vampire cases was he going to have to deal with? And if this happened every time, what was the next thing supposed to be?! He'd actually end up _dead_ next time!

"Houdini." Doyle strode back into the room, crouching down next to him.

"Oh, good, there you are. I thought you left me to fend for myself." Houdini huffed, tilting his head a little more as Doyle crowded in to examine the wound.

"Oh, look. Actual human teeth instead of fang marks," Doyle said, with no small amount of sarcasm, seeing as how _he was the one who believed in them in the first place_! "It doesn't look too deep, but I want to get that cleaned out as soon as possible." He straightened up. "You'll have to come downstairs."

Well, that was a fine how-do-you-do! Houdini frowned as Doyle left, meeting up with Sergeant Gudgett in the doorway. "Yeah, show a little more compassion!" he called, and then turned back to Adelaide. "Jeez. Can you believe that guy? No bedside manner whatsoever."

Adelaide smiled slightly. "I don't know," she said, taking Houdini's hand to guide it to hold the handkerchief against his neck. "You didn't see how fast he moved after the poor woman attacked."

"‘Poor woman’?" Houdini repeated incredulously. "She _bit_ me!"

"Well, clearly there's something wrong there."

"Clearly?! Clearly she's touched in the head," he muttered.

"Houdini," she chastised gently, helping him to his feet.

"What?" He frowned, pressing his hand flush against the handkerchief. "I can't believe she actually bit me. And not even the erotic kind of bite," he muttered, unsteadily following Adelaide down the stairs.

" _Houdini!_ Really!"

　

 

　

"Where's Houdini?"

Doyle lifted the folder from Adelaide's desk, flicking it open. "I don't know. I sent him a message, but he hasn't shown up. Probably still pouting after being accosted yesterday by the vampire."

"That is _not_ funny," Adelaide said, although the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth might have said otherwise.

"No," Doyle agreed. "Completely horrible." Maybe he had rushed to pull the woman away from Houdini and was genuinely concerned for him - although letting Houdini see _concern_ from anyone was a sure way to receive teasing in reply - but the man was unsurprisingly fine. "So long as he takes care of the wound, he's going to be fine. I'll keep an eye on it."

"Yes, well." Adelaide plucked the file from Doyle. "We need to report in to Chief Merring. He wants to see you, too."

"Oh, right." Doyle sighed, and then stopped. "You know, thinking about it, Houdini probably skipped out so we had to deal with wrapping up this case ourselves," he said, leading the way to Merring's office.

　

 

　

A jerk of the arm and knuckles cracked hard against the headboard, startling Houdini awake.

"Owww..." It was more surprise than pain, a sudden re-entrance back into the waking world, but still he rubbed at his knuckles uncomfortably and squinted into the darkness. There should have been sunlight straining to get through the curtains. There wasn't. He blinked slowly and let the thought dissolve in favour of rubbing wearily at his eyes.

Was there ever a case he could wake up from _not_ feeling like he'd been ran over by a motor vechicle? Why was it always him, he wondered. On second thought, he knew why it was always him. He was rambunctious. He didn't expect that would change. But a break would be nice, once in a while, right? Well, maybe not.

No point crying over spilled milk. He dragged his fingers through the curls matted to the side of his head. He needed a bath. That, he could do.

The sky was starting to darken outside of the curtains when Houdini hooked a finger behind one to pull it aside. Had he really slept throughout the entire day? It had happened before, once or twice, since Ma had... He shook his head, irritably flicking the thought away. He just wouldn't spend the day in bed tomorrow. It was fine. He let the curtain fall.

He spent a few minutes in front of the mirror, fingers passing over the few bruises that he had from the case and performances. He wouldn't have been able to imagine what he was getting himself into when he decided to go debunking with Arthur Conan Doyle and Adelaide Stratton. He didn't think it was this. But it was fun, so that was something. Mostly, anyway, as his eyes travelled to the white gauze against his neck. Fun, occasionally painful. Then again, that was what he went in for, he thought, digging his nails under the tape, sticky on his skin, to peel the gauze away.

The bite didn't look as bad as he thought it would. Pink and clearly a bite mark, but well cleaned and healing already. It had felt worse; or maybe it had been the shock of having a self-proclaimed vampire come flying at you. Perhaps that was why neither of his companions had worried much over him.

He pressed the back of his knuckles against it gently to feel for warmth, but there was no sign of infection thus far. Good. He would just need to keep it clean; he couldn't deal with an infection right now.

What he could do, however, was get that bath, and a bath he desperately needed. Shucking out of his pants, Houdini left his reflection behind and turned for the tub.

 

Doyle was waiting in his rooms when he emerged, hair damp and towel around his waist. He felt the man's presence even before he saw him, but it didn't stop the sigh of mock annoyance when he saw it _was_ Doyle. "This is what you do with your night?" he asked. "Let yourself into other people's rooms?"

"Oh, and there's the vampire now." Doyle folded the newspaper back, tossing it onto the chair.

"Ha, ha, very funny. _You're_ the one who believes in them, why am _I_ the one who gets this?" He gestured wildly to his neck. "What are you doing here?"

"I figured I'd check up on you since you didn't come in today. Is that what you've spent the day doing? Sleeping?" Doyle's eyes flickered from Houdini to the unmade bed.

"Hey! I got attacked by a crazy lady yesterday!" He tugged a pair of clean trousers from the chest of drawers. "You don't know how much that takes out of you."

Doyle remained to look unimpressed. "Yes, well."

"At least I don't spend my nights creeping around in other people's hotel rooms."

"I was _not_ creeping."

"Ha!" He staggered over his trousers, reaching out a hand to grab ahold of the bed frame. "Okay, doc, but not many people go to sit in other people's hotel rooms and read their papers, either."

"I came to check up on you," Doyle repeated sternly, crossing the room. "How is your neck?"

"Ah! Hey!" He swatted at Doyle's hands. "Can I at least get dressed first?" he asked, fixing him with a pointed stare.

"You're putting your pyjamas back on."

"Yeah? It's night-time." He slipped his arms through the familiar silk, and he looked at Doyle quizzically.

"You're going... you're going back to sleep." Doyle shook his head a little. "Of course you are."

"I don't know about you, but I don't want to mess up my sleep schedule. Not all of us are writers who stay up all night doing God knows what." His fingers flew over a couple of the buttons before he reached back to fold down his collar. "Fine, have at me."

"Thank you." Doyle stepped forward again, and Harry sighed in faux irritation. It was a little irritating. But Doyle cared. Not that Houdini would ever make that serious of an accusation out loud to the doctor, but Doyle cared and that was... nice? The Metropole got too quiet sometimes these days. Harry understood what Ma had been talking about. So, maybe it didn't bother him as much as he might make out to have someone, just, well, _there_. "It's healing nicely. Very nicely, in fact. That's good."

"I thought so."

Doyle hummed and moved back. "Do you want me to bandage that again?"

Harry shook his head. "I can do it." He had plenty of practise, but he knew that way that Doyle looked at him when he brought up just how much practise he had, so he didn't. "Thanks, doc. Your concern is touching." He said it sarcastically, and that was fine.

"I'll let myself out, then. Oh, let Constable Stratton know you're okay, would you? Get in touch."

Harry's fingers fumbled over the leftover buttons on his shirt. "Was she asking about me?"

"Yes." Doyle glanced over his shoulder with a knowing sort of look that made Houdini want to look away. He wasn't sure why. It was not a secret how much time he had spent poking his nose into Adelaide's business with propositions, both careless and serious. So why was Doyle giving him _that_ look? "She was."

"Well, good. That... That means she's worried about me." He blinked. "Right?"

"I'm sure if I tried to tell you otherwise, you would argue with me," Doyle said. "But I'm sure she is worried. You were bitten by a vampire, after all," he said smartly.

"Oh, you're not going to let me live that down, are you?" Houdini huffed and turned away, rubbing water from the back of his neck. "Good _night_ , Doyle."

"You as well."

　

 

　

The wound healed up without incident. The bruises healed after a few days, gone until another inevitable injury, at least, and all three of them were back to work on busting spooks again by the end of the week.

　

 

　

It felt like he was dying.

They had gone out for dinner, all of them. Doyle, Adelaide, and himself. Another case that had come and gone, and this one had had a particularly happy ending. A child; they had saved a child. That was always something to celebrate. And maybe the dinner was partially an excuse to spend time with Adelaide (and even Doyle, how the man had become a friend even Harry could not say) outside of work. He was low on companionship as of late, that was all.

Mostly it was just a ‘feel good’ dinner, until he'd gone and choked over a piece of chicken. Or whatever he'd done.

"Houdini?" It had been unintentional and his throat was still burning, he thought, forehead pressed flush against the edge of the table, but Adelaide had her hand on his shoulder, so maybe there was something for it yet.

"Are you okay now?" Doyle asked. He'd all but sprung to his feet, too.

Harry nodded slightly, swiping the tears from his eyes. Everyone was staring at them; he didn't even need to look up to know. Still, he did, and gave their audience a weak smile. "I'm okay," he rasped, and fumbled for the extra glass of water a waiter had brought by.

The pressure of Adelaide's hand removed itself from Harry's shoulder, and he definitely did not sag a little in disappointment. "Is it the chicken?" she asked, and Houdini raised his gaze to her questioningly. "Spicy? It certainly smells fragrant." She nodded towards his nearly untouched plate, and he swallowed against the horrible burn that had gone clear down to his gut.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe." Either way, it had put him entirely off of even trying to eat any more, the taste of acid strong in the back of his throat. He pushed the plate further away and cleared his throat, taking another drink of water.

　

 

　

He tapped his finger against the mirror. There was something missing here. Namely, his reflection.

That was... weird. There was no other word for it. Just... weird.

He tapped his finger again. The noise came, but he could not seen the reflection of the finger causing it.

"Huh."

Was it a problem with the mirror? Could mirrors go bad or something? He was going to have to get one of the hotel staff to look at it, probably replace it. It had been here a long time, ever since he had moved in and probably before. He guessed that these things happened. But whatever. Not a big deal; there was no way he didn't look at his best, anyway.

A knock at the door drew him out of reverie. "Telegram for you, Mr Houdini."

"Oh." Houdini grabbed the letter he had intended to pick up earlier from the table and went to the door. "Can you post this? If it's a telegram, I'm sure I'll be off." After all, most of his telegrams usually came from one person or the other, and either of them meant a case.

"Yes, Mr Houdini."

"Thanks," he said distractedly, stepping back to grab his jacket.

　

　

 

"Houdini. What are you doing lurking about out here for?"

"I'm not _lurking_." Houdini bristled at the tone of Doyle's question. Lurking, as if he were doing something improper. He decidedly was not. For once.

"Are you going to come in or not?"

"Is that you inviting me in?"

Doyle sighed, in the long-suffering sort of way that Harry had come to expect. "Yes, that is me inviting you in."

Houdini shoved off from the wall. "Okay." He fell into step with Doyle, following the man into the victim's relative's house. "Did Adelaide get anything else on the suspect?"

"No, not yet." Doyle glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "Are you feeling alright? You've been acting... odd."

Odd? Quaint. Harry was fairly certain ‘odd’ was the least of all of the insults that he had gotten in his life, not that Doyle had intended it as an insult. He took a little pleasure in being odd, really; that was what made him who he was as a performer, right? But "No, I'm fine". The shadows provided by the home rushed over his body like a wave of relief and he blew out a breath. "It's _hot_ out. Isn't that a little unseasonable?"

A sharp glance from his companion accompanied the "It's not hot".

"I'm sweltering."

"You're wearing a coat," Doyle protested. "Are you certain that you're not coming down with something?" He reached over, hand held aloft.

Harry recognized the intention of feeling his forehead a split second before Doyle could do it; he ducked out of the way. "Hey! No! I'm fine, doc. Just sweaty, thanks."

If there was a prize for looking unimpressed, Doyle would have won it months ago, Houdini was realizing, but it never failed to amuse him, that dry look on the doctor's face. "You'll tell us if you feel worse?"

"I don't feel bad."

" _If_ you feel bad, then."

"Sure, Doyle. Whatever helps you sleep at night." He flashed him a toothy grin. Doyle did not look assuaged, but Adelaide met them in the corridor, and the conversation was effectively ended.

　

 

　

"Oh, what is it today, faking another robbery... Houdini?" Adelaide was suddenly so close to him, and Harry reeled away so quickly that he almost fell out of the chair. "Sorry! Are you okay? You look poorly."

Houdini had come to the precinct with the intention of seeing Adelaide. To check up on her, really, although he would never admit that. And yes, sometimes he had used the excuse that something had happened to him - a mugging, a robbery, a threat, anything - just to be able to sit across from her and talk.

But almost immediately as he had walked into the hustle and bustle of the precinct, he had been assailed with such a feeling of malaise that he had dropped into the chair next to Adelaide's desk and practically draped himself over top of it. He hadn't heard her come back, or maybe he had, but he had been too focussed on trying not to be ill that he heard her only after she had spoke.

And now she was so close, standing over him with concern etched into her face, he could smell her hair, smell her skin- No, don't be ridiculous, Harry, she wasn't even standing _that_ close to him...!

"Harry?"

"I'm fine," he choked out, the small of his back pressing uncomfortably into the chair. "U-Um... I just, kind of, feel a little under the weather. Er, water, maybe?"

Adelaide straightened up, nodding. "I'll be right back. Stay here."

He certainly wasn't going to go anywhere, not with the way he suddenly felt. His head was swimming, his throat dry. At any other time, he would have said it was the feeling of being in love - _debatable_ \- but the sort of feeling he had in his stomach wasn't the good sort of feeling he got when he got to spend time with Adelaide. He just felt... _wrong_.

Maybe he _was_ catching a cold.

Love, a cold; he couldn't handle either of those right now.

Adelaide returned with a glass of water. Houdini no longer felt up to their usual banter and so instead he sat in the chair next to her desk and sipped at the water. Adelaide did not fuss over him, and he was suddenly glad, in that moment. They made small talk while she worked and Harry tried to pull himself together, fingers clenched around the glass of icy water that did nothing to soothe the ache in his throat.

　

　

 

Houdini almost yelped when he pulled the curtains back. His fingers literally _burned_. He jerked them back and stared at the red that was blossoming across them from the few seconds that they had been exposed. Sensitivity to sunlight was one thing, but this? What was this?

Hesitantly, he held his hand back in front of the rays of sunshine pouring into his room, and again the pain that jerked through his nerves like glass shredding his skin made him pull it back quickly. And in that moment, he noticed that there was no shadow on the ground. Was he in the wrong light? No, the rays were coming in this way... Okay.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled the curtains again, cloaking the room in darkness. Think. Doyle. He could call Doyle, figure out what was happening with these burns coming from the sunlight. Wait... wait. Speaking of Doyle, sensitivity to sunlight, this reminded him of Bram Stoker's illness. And Stoker had had... no, _no_. There was no way. There had to be a logical explanation.

But that made him think... that case with Bram Stoker... and he _had_ been bitten by someone who claimed to be a vampire not long ago now... but that was ridiculous! Vampires didn't exist! Honestly, this was what he needed in his head right now, rampant hysteria running around in there.

But, _hell_ , if the sunlight didn't hurt.

Houdini rubbed at his hand and squinted at the curtains, frowning.

　

Oh, _God_ , it had been garlic in that chicken. He hadn't noticed it at the time but he was almost certain, thinking about it now, that there had been garlic on the chicken. And he'd choked over it the moment he'd put it in his mouth and had gone on wine and water the rest of the night.

And the mirror... but mirrors could stop working, couldn't they? It was a ridiculous notion, but if the alternative was _vampires_ , there was no contest. Vampires weren't real! They were _not real_.

And then just days ago, the rush of _whatever_ he'd had at the precinct, when Adelaide had leaned over him and he had panicked, the scent of _her_ too thick in his nostrils, her hair, her skin, her blood- no, no, no! Hysteria! It had to be hysteria!

He'd hauled himself to his feet before he had even made a decision to. And he hadn't even thought about where he was going until he was already pawing through the box of baubles, looking... looking...

His fingers barely even brushed the crucifix before he'd jerked away, skin burning again. It was just a little piece, on a chain meant for a necklace, but Houdini wasn't thinking about that; he was staring with wide eyes at his fingers and utterly failing at not panicking.

Hysteria, it had to be. Or... he was drugged. Except there'd been no one here all day! _Think_ , Harry. Oh, he could not go to Doyle like this. Doyle would laugh in his face for it. _"I thought you didn't believe in vampires."_ He didn't! He didn't! He... couldn't... there was no such thing... right?

He stared down at the burn on his hands.

... So, what was happening to him, then?

　

 

　

Dread crashed into Adelaide's veins when knocking at her door woke her up. It wasn't the first time that she had been woken up in the middle of the night, but it was never for a good reason. And she couldn't help think of the two most important people in her life right now, Arthur Conan Doyle and Harry Houdini, and how she would react if something had happened to them...

The knocking on the door grew more insistent and Adelaide struggled with her dressing gown, blearily stumbling towards the door. "Yes, yes, I'm coming," she mumbled, and tried to force back the dread and the nerves and the lock on her door.

Harry Houdini stood on her doorstep, looking disheveled but, thankfully, very much alive.

Adelaide couldn't help the breath of relief that blew out from her lips when she saw him there, alive, and for a moment, irritation replaced the worry. But she didn't act on it, because, yes, he was alive, but she had never seen him look like _this_ , not even after Cecilia had passed away. "Houdini..." She pulled her dressing gown a little closer, squinting at him in the darkness. "What's wrong? What are you doing here? I was asleep-"

Harry pressed his hand over his mouth and nose, hovering in the entrance. "I think I need advice," he said thinly. His voice came out a little too gravelly.

Her eyebrows pinched with a frown. "Harry, if you woke me up for _advice_ -"

"I think I'm turning into a vampire." His hand fell away, blood speckling on his lips and angry burns on his hand. And he looked scared. Honest and properly _scared_. "Addie?"

Adelaide's hand fell from the doorway. She didn't know what to do but stare.

**Author's Note:**

> I know Houdini's Mr I Am Calm About Everything, but listen. If you thought you were turning into a vampire, would you be calm? No. I jumped on the vampire train again. Strigoi just... vampires. I love me some good old fashioned Stoker kind of vampires.
> 
> No promises on when the next chapter(s) will be up... this whole thing got deleted and I had to rewrite it and I just want to get what I have done posted, so bear with me. xD
> 
> As usual, I'm a FOX viewer and have not seen the finale yet!


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